


Whumptober 2020 24 Blindfolded

by frankie_mcstein



Series: Whumptober 2020 [24]
Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Brief character death, Gen, HPD save the day, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Waterboarding, Whumptober 2020, hurt Higgins, hurt magnum, it doesn't take, mentions of bastinado, mentions of beating, mentions of electrocution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/pseuds/frankie_mcstein
Summary: Whumptober 2020 prompt 24- BlindfoldedAll he has to do is hold out and the client will be safely away. And he's sure he can. Until his interrogator tells him they have his partner.
Relationships: Juliet Higgins & Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV
Series: Whumptober 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947172
Comments: 24
Kudos: 41





	Whumptober 2020 24 Blindfolded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DinerGuy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/gifts).



> They get kidnapped again. Tortured again. There's some emotional whump here, mostly panic, and lots of physical whump goodness!

Blood was trickling down his arms; he could feel it. Warm drops spilling from his wrists where the soft skin had been torn open by the chains holding him up. Inside the hood that had been forced over his head, noises seemed to echo. His own breathing. The roar of blood in his ears. The harsh voice of the man shouting questions. The quieter voice of the man issuing threats.

"One more time. Where is Christine?"

"You'll regret not talking."

Christine would regret it more if he did talk. She had called nearly two weeks prior, desperate for help to get herself and her unborn baby away from the drug-dealing scum she had married. It had taken a lot of Magnum's favors and a lot of Higgins' contacts, but they had managed to get a single passport. Christine, or Alice, as the new passport said, was on her way to Frankfurt where Higgins knew someone who could get better and more extensive forgeries. 

Magnum knew if he could hold on for another day or so, Christine would have yet another new name, and the information he had on her would be useless. If he could push his body to withstand the blows, the strain, the electric shocks, for one measly day, a young woman and her baby would be safe to live the long and happy lives they deserved. 

His ears pricked up at the sound of water running; it was somewhere nearby, and seemed to be getting closer. He frowned beneath the thick hood, trying to figure out what was about to happen. Cold water would suck right about now; he was already chilly, hanging from a ceiling in nothing but his jeans.

And then a forceful stream hit him in the face, instantly soaking the hood and plastering the material across his mouth and nose. He tried to twitch away, shaking his head and arching already aching muscles. His lungs started burning instantly as the instinctive gasp he'd taken at the shock had flooded his airway with water.

He tried tipping his head down, hoping the hood would fall away a little and free up some room for him to breathe, but the thickness of the material was trapping the water, and meant he was lowering his face into a puddle. He couldn't help but try anyway, widening his mouth as much as he could, trying to move his neck in physically impossible ways, pulling water into his lungs and coughing desperately.

He didn't notice at first when the water was turned off. The pool that had been threatening to drown him slowly drained through the tightly cinched neck of the hood, but the pressure over his face stayed where it was. His mouth and nose were blocked by soaked cloth; his stomach and chest were burning as he fought to get to the air that he knew was there somewhere but was so far away.

Something tugged on the hood, rolling it up over his chin. His mouth was uncovered, and he gasped, an ugly, wheezing sound rolling around the room as his body tried to cough and breathe at the same time. He could feel his heart racing, lurching at the strain; lack of air and a sickening burst of adrenaline making the muscle jump and squeeze.

His entire body felt limp as he finally managed to fill his lungs. The hood was immediately rolled down again, but he was okay now. He could manage now. 

"Well, that was fun."

Magnum set his jaw even as his lungs begged him to keep breathing as much as he could. It was the man who had been making threats, the one who had held the stun gun against Magnum's throat, and he sounded genuinely delighted with the reaction his latest effort had gotten.

"I really hope you keep your mouth shut. I'm looking forward to doing that again."

_ 'Don't react,' _ Magnum told himself. In the SEALs, he'd been given anti-interrogation training. In the POW camp, he had learned more about resisting torture than any training course could ever ethically or sanely teach. He wasn't going to say a word. He might cry out or even scream, but he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of a single word.

"Of course, I don't have to keep doing this to  _ you." _

The emphasis on the last word, the way the whole thing was almost purred, the anticipation that was so evident, made Magnum's heart lurch all over again. His eyes widened despite himself, trying to see through the hood, trying to work out what was going on now. Who else could there be? He was alone when he was grabbed, Higgins was spending the day at the cultural center, Rick and T.C. didn't know anything about Christine…

His mind raced as he tried to figure out what the guy could have meant. Maybe they had found Pete, the forger? He hoped not; Pete, who kept insisting they would never be able to pronounce his real name, had been a jovial little man. He'd even given them a discount after Higgins had explained about the baby, not even born and in such awful danger. 

It hadn't been until Higgins had made some crack about job security that Magnum had realized how clever the other man had been to keep his identity a secret. He'd even insisted they pay him only half until they inspected the passport, something which had seemed like an oddly high level of customer service until Magnum had realized two small deposits instead of one large one would help keep the IRS away.

He really hoped they hadn't gotten their hands on Pete. But, if not him, then who? Who else would they think might be able to help them?

"Now then, sweetheart," and Magnum could hear the smile in the torturer's voice, "are you gonna be more cooperative than your partner?"

Partner? Higgins? It couldn't be! They wouldn't have known to go to the cultural center to get her. Had they grabbed her on her way back to the estate? How long had they been holding him? He thought it had only been a few hours, but, as he tried to flex his hands and felt the swelling in his fingers, he realized with a sinking feeling that he had lost track of time.

The hood was pulled off his head fast enough to catch under his chin and yank his head back. He winced a little at the light; it was painfully bright, the fluorescence bouncing off the white walls and straight into his retinas. The headache was instant and throbbing and he had to fight not to squint. 

The figure standing in front of him blurred for a worrying second, then formed into a grinning man with the sodden hood hanging from his hand. There was silence for a moment as they stared at each other, then the man reached out and jabbed his finger into Magnum’s cheek. At some point, a blow had landed there, and Magnum winced at the pressure, pain exploding into his eye.

“Poor little Private Investigator,” the man jeered, slapping him with an insulting light touch. Then he turned and walked out of Magnum’s line of sight.

Magnum took the opportunity to look around, trying to see something that would tell him where he was or maybe a face he could put a name to. Instead, all he saw was bare walls, glaring lights, and three faces he didn’t recognize. Then the torturer was back, a roll of tape in his hands. Magnum tried to toss his head and avoid being gagged, but he was dazed by a fierce blow to his temple. The man stood in front of him for a few seconds until his eyes focused again, then waved and walked across the room, heading almost farther left than Magnum could see.

Magnum watched him go and realized with a feeling of genuine panic that a slim, feminine figure was tied to what looked like a support post. There was a hood hiding the woman’s face, but he recognized the top and jeans as the ones Higgins had been wearing when she had left with Kumu that morning, if it was still the same day. The necklace glinting in the harsh light was the one he and Rick and T.C. had clubbed together to get her for her birthday earlier that month, the green gem winking as she kept her breathing steady and deep.

Magnum found himself thinking the words ‘atta girl’ and wishing he could say them out loud, while at the same time hating that he was proud of her for not letting any fear she was feeling show in her body language. At least her feet were firmly planted on the floor; he was starting to worry that he was going to suffer permanent damage in his hands from the strain.

But then he spotted the hose on the floor, still dribbling water.

“No.”

No one reacted to the muffled sound. Not the two men who were sitting by the door, watching with grotesque interest as the third man, the torturer, the one who had beaten Magnum while he was tied up and helpless, reached for the hose. Not Higgins, who must have heard him, must have heard everything that had happened, must have known what was about to happen.

“No!”

Still, the three men acted like Magnum hadn’t made a sound. The two men watching sat forward a little, as if excited by the idea of watching a woman fight to breath through a torrent of water. The torturer grinned and slowly turned the valve on the end of the hose, letting loose a stream of water that got stronger and stronger. But Higgins’ head tilted slightly, her chest moved a little more, and Magnum had the sudden, sickening realization that she was trying to prepare herself.

The man, the one who was going to die screaming if Magnum had anything to do with it, lifted the hose, and it soon became clear that he wasn’t interested in moving as quickly with Higgins as he had with Magnum. He let the water play over Higgins’ feet, feet Magnum only just noticed were bare and, if the pinkish tint in the water was anything to go by, seemed to be bleeding. As Screaming Death lifted the hose a little higher, playing it up and down Higgins’ legs, laughing to himself as the cold and constant movement kept her legs jerking a little against the ropes holding her, Magnum tugged frantically at his chains.

All he needed was a little slack. Just one link to shift a little in his favor. Quite what he thought he was going to be able to do when he was exhausted, shivering from cold, had waves of pain crashing over him from his chest, face, and stomach, and was facing three opponents with unknown training and weapons, he really didn’t know. But he did know he couldn’t just watch while Higgins was tortured.

It had been bad enough hearing her recount the waterboarding Sam and Lina had subjected her to. He had stood in the observation room and eavesdropped while Katsumoto had taken her statement in the interrogation room, had seen her struggle to keep herself together, had gone running in when the mask had slipped when she spilled her water. He had held her while she finished her statement, and they had both had nightmares that night.

He couldn’t let this happen to her again. Her determination to keep him safe had nearly gotten her killed, Sam having brought her back at least twice. And he knew her determination to protect Christine would be almost as strong, that she would fight until her dying breath, just like he would. And he couldn’t just watch that happen.

The water was hitting her at chest-level now, the audible gasp being forced out of her whenever it landed square on her stomach testament to the force of the stream. Even without the hood, it wouldn’t be possible to avoid breathing in the freezing liquid. Any second now, Screaming Death’s hand would lift higher. Whatever deep breathing Higgins had been doing in the hopes of flooding her cells with oxygen would have been ruined by the way she had been tormented first.

Magnum yelled as he felt his shoulder suddenly give way under his frantic pulling, the joint overstretched and under too much pressure. Through the involuntary tears that flooded his eyes, the haze of pain that actually threatened his consciousness, Magnum saw Screaming Death turn his head. They locked eyes, furious brown meeting ice-cold blue, and Screaming Death grinned.

And kept looking right at Magnum as he lifted his hand again and the water landed on Higgins’ face.

Her body jerked at the shock, kept on jerking at the pain and breathlessness. Magnum’s body jerked too as he ignored the burning pain in his dislocated shoulder to try yet again to get himself free. He screamed into the gag and shook his head frantically, trying to tell Screaming Death to leave Higgins alone. 

He felt a split second of relief as the water dropped, falling down to Higgins’ feet again, and he heard her coughing. He had just enough time to think that, if she was still coughing, she was still alive. Then the water twitched back up and streamed over her face again. Magnum yelled into the tape over his mouth, shouted that Higgins would never say anything to endanger Christine. He knew it was dumb, that the more he shouted and yanked at his restraints, the more Screaming Death would think what he was doing was effective.

So he took a deep breath and stopped. He stood still, the balls of his feet taking a little more of his weight as he stopped trying to get his arms free. He breathed heavily through his nose, resisting the childish urge to hold his breath as long as Higgins’ couldn’t breathe. He let the pain flow across his body instead of trying to hold it back, something he had learned after the first few weeks in the camp.

In the privacy of his own mind, he hoped like hell that Higgins would understand why he wasn’t trying to get to her anymore. He hoped she would realize he was trying to make their tormentor believe that he was wasting his time with her. He hoped that the hose would turn back to him, that he could spare Higgins the trauma and fear of drowning yet again. He didn’t try to meet the curious look that he was being given, just kept his eyes fixed on the bottom of the pillar Higgins was tied to, wondering a little absently about the blood he had seen earlier.

He did look up when he heard the water getting quieter, so relieved to see the valve being closed that he nearly sagged against the chains holding him up. This was good; this was what he had been hoping for. Take the attention away from Higgins. She could handle it, sure, but she shouldn’t have to. His overprotective nature was telling him that she was only in this situation because of him, because he couldn’t go more than two cases without asking her for help, because he had dragged her into his life. His guilt ignored the fact that she had willingly accepted his offer of a partnership and focused instead on the absolute lack of near death experiences she had suffered through on Oahu before he had come crashing into her life.

And finally, after nearly twenty seconds of silence, his mind told him what the silence meant. No water crashing out of the hose pipe, that was good. No coughing or choking, bad bad bad! She wasn’t breathing! He looked at Screaming Death only to see a look of glee on the other man’s face. And Magnum panicked, calling out to Screaming Death to cut her down, not caring that the tape was making every word into nonsense sounds. He yanked at the damned chains again, not even feeling the lightning bolt that shot down from his shoulder or the way his broken ribs were grinding against each other.

“Please!” he tried to beg, working his jaw furiously in an attempt to ease the grip of the tape, to get his words across. He stopped as Screaming Death walked over to him, forcing himself to hold perfectly still. He waited while the tape was slowly peeled back, ever so slowly freeing his lips until he was able to speak, and the words came spilling out.

“Please! Please don’t let her die!”

And, like his words had somehow contained some sort of key, the door to the room burst open as if an explosive had been thrown against it. Men in black, heavily armed, dressed in helmets and flak jackets, came spilling into the room. Magnum felt his head spinning a little as he tried desperately to figure out what was going on. He watched as the two men who had been sitting by the door were wrestled to the floor, none too gently, he was happy to note. He heard a voice yelling at Screaming Death, telling him to get down on his knees, interlace his fingers.

Either HPD had somehow found them or Oahu was being invaded by military forces. He was exhausted enough to wonder for a second; maybe his old unit had tracked him down, or some old friends of Higgins had mounted some sort of off the books mission. And then something was blocking his view of Higgins and he started struggling again.

“Hang on there,” came a voice in his ear.

He hadn’t even noticed the men standing either side of him, working on getting him free. His body was practically vibrating as the chains were tugged and finally fell off, but he didn’t even take a single step toward Higgins. His legs gave out under him, every burn and cut and break and bruise making itself known as he crashed to the floor.

Someone was shouting something, and he threw his head to the side as hands started poking his chest and prodding his shoulder. He strained his neck, desperate to make sure someone had realized that Higgins wasn’t breathing. Someone had cut her free, the ropes lying in a heap on the floor with the hood nearby. Three men, head-to-toe in black, were kneeling around her and, as he stared at the jerking shoulders of one of the men, he heard a sudden gasp followed by a cough and a hideous bubbling sound.

All three men threw their hands beneath Higgins, tipped her quickly to the side, and one reached for what Magnum thought was an oxygen mask. But his vision was getting blurry, the pain that was crashing down over him was getting harder and harder to ignore. The coughing meant she was breathing. If she was breathing, he didn’t need to hang on any longer. He had just enough time to see her face, grossly pale, relax as she passed out. And then he followed her down into the soft blackness.

…

“They caned her feet hard enough to break the skin?” Magnum felt sick. He’d almost forgotten about the blood he’d seen in the water, had thought the simulated drowning was the only thing that had been done to Higgins. “If they hit her hard enough to break the skin, they must have broken some bones.”

Rick and T.C. shifted uncomfortably; none of them were happy to have such extensive experience with the aftereffects of torture.

“They did,” T.C. told him, looking grim. “Four in her right foot and three in her left.”

“They wanna take some more X-rays before they decide if either foot needs casting. The swelling is taking a while to go down.” Rick looked angry.

Magnum understood the feeling. His own injuries had been impressive, broken ribs which had led to some bleeding on his right lung, a fractured cheek bone, extensive bruising to his left kidney which, three days on, was still causing some concern, burns scattered across his body, some of which had gotten infected… the list had seemed endless when he had first woken up. 

And then, when he’d asked about Higgins and his friends had finally been allowed to tell him the full story, he’d been told the water inhalation had caused massive damage to her lungs, that the wounds on both of her feet had become infected, and that the doctors didn’t think they were going to stop pneumonia from setting in. He’d almost hoped to be told that the three men had been shot resisting arrest. Instead, he’d been told they were all facing a laundry list of charges, and, even after rolling over on their boss, Christine’s husband, all three of them were still looking at years in jail.

“I wanna see her,” he said again, repeating the request he had made several times since he’d woken up.

“We’re lucky they’re even letting us in to see her,” came the unwelcome response from Rick, “and there’s no way they’re letting you up out of this bed anytime soon.”

Magnum felt the reminder that he was stuck in bed was unnecessary; he was painfully aware of how incapable his body was of moving at the moment. Not that he had tried to sneak up the three floors to Higgins’ room only to fail spectacularly and add to his already extensive collection of bruises or anything. That would have been ridiculous, and he was just glad he had managed to convince his nurse that he had woken up from a nightmare and been confused.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, knowing there was at least half an hour left before anyone would be allowed back in Higgins’ room. It was making them all a little anxious, not knowing when she would wake up or what sort of state she would be in when she did. Rick and T.C. had tried to argue that, given her past, it would be safer for her to have someone in the room who she would know wasn't a threat, but her doctor had just glared at them and repeated his dire warnings about her condition.

"Our Higgy Baby is gonna be fine." And T.C. looked like he really believed it, like he couldn't conceive of a world where Magnum and Higgins weren't running around together and giving him gray hairs. "We just need to be patient."

It was just a shame that, even after years in the military, patience wasn't a strong suit for any of them.

Over the next day or so, Magnum proceeded to nag every member of medical staff who set foot inside his room about going up to visit his partner. He happily kept the fact that they were business partners to himself. Rick and T.C. pushed their luck every time they were allowed in to see her, begging for just five more minutes with their 'baby sister.' None of them were bothered by the staff thinking Magnum and Higgins were engaged or believing that at least one of them had been adopted into the other's family. 

Finally, early the next morning, the cell phone that Rick had slipped to Magnum rang, distracting the P.I. from a maudlin train of thought where he was never allowed to work a case again because his friends were all fed up with him ending up in hospital.

“She’s awake!” Magnum could hear the grin in Rick’s voice. “She struggled when she woke up, didn’t seem to realize she could breathe. They had to give her a mild sedative, and the nurse who called, you remember, the really pretty redhead? The one who gave me her number?”

Magnum grinned to himself in the dark; if there had been any bad news, then Rick wouldn’t be chatting about cute nurses. He remembered the way the woman in question had been very obvious about flirting with Rick. But Rick was still talking, and Magnum made himself stop imagining a world where his friend was settled down and contemplating marriage.

“She seemed pretty sure Jules would be asleep again before we’d even hung up.”

That wasn’t so great. Except, no, she had an infection; her body would need all the rest it could get. Magnum took a second to take a breath, to let go of the feeling that he was waiting for something bad to happen, and let himself be happy that he was getting better and that Juliet was finally making progress.

Of course, he wouldn’t be totally happy until they were both one hundred percent and out helping people and solving crimes again. But, seeing as how things could easily have turned out so much worse this time, he was willing to take what he could get.

**Author's Note:**

> "Imagine being blindfolded and waterboarded" is a silly thing to go and say to me, really


End file.
